


Standing Face to Face

by ceealaina



Series: Tony Stark Bingo 2020 [22]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Civil War Fix-It, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Making Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceealaina/pseuds/ceealaina
Summary: When Tony gets an emergency call from Nat after the events of Civil War, he doesn't hesitate to drop everything to help.... He's never trusting Natasha again.Title: Standing Face to FaceCollaborator Name: ceealainaCard Number: 3088Link: AO3Square Filled: S3 - Anger IssuesShip: GenRating: TeenMajor Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Civil War Fix-It, Making UpSummary: When Tony gets an emergency call from Nat after the events of Civil War, he doesn't hesitate to drop everything to help.... He's never trusting Natasha again.Word Count: 2792
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Series: Tony Stark Bingo 2020 [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594795
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	Standing Face to Face

Tony trudged into the workshop, exhausted after another round of Accords meetings. He was done with the entire world -- except for Rhodey, who was beautiful and wonderful and had never betrayed him -- and this close to calling the whole thing quits. He was ready to lose himself in some War Machine upgrades, let that numb his mind for a bit, when his eyes fell on the flashing light on the landline tucked in the corner. 

“Shit,” he hissed, exhaustion suddenly gone. “Friday, baby? Stealth mode, please.” 

“You got it, boss,” she told him, the windows already going opaque. 

The thing was, the tale of the Avengers breakup had been  _ slightly _ exaggerated. Sure, Steve and his gang of merry assholes were, technically, on the run and, even more technically, no longer classified as Avengers. But they were still out there, actively fighting crime to their heart’s content. Which Tony knew, because he had regular check-ins with them to see if things were okay and to keep them apprised of the Accords situation. He was their ‘in case of aliens’ emergency back up, he sent updates for all their equipment, and once a week -- give or take -- he and Rogers would get into a yelling match over the phone, and usually end up hanging up on each other. They were still his team, and Tony would do anything required to help them (the fact that anyone anywhere thought Steve was capable of breaking into the Raft, without leaving a trace,  _ on his own _ , was frankly insulting) but he was also about ready to dropkick Captain Asshole off a very tall building. 

But regardless of his personal feelings for Steve, if the emergency line was ringing, he was going to answer it. 

Natasha’s voice was ruhed and harried, sounding like she was trying to keep from being heard. “Tony? Budapest. Right away,” she told him. There was a burst of static, and she gave him a set of coordinates, and then the line went dead. 

“Shit,” Tony muttered, already suiting up. “Friday? Cancel… Everything.” 

“On it, boss,” she reported as he took off into the sky. 

***

The coordinates that Natasha had given him took Tony to some hole-in-the-wall local bar so far on the outskirts of town that he didn’t know if it could really be considered Budapest anymore. He hesitated for the briefest of seconds, but he knew better than to think Natasha might have made a mistake. She hadn’t given him a stealth warning so, still fully wrapped in the armour, he stepped through the front door. 

The bar was dimly lit, a few tables scattered around the room, all sitting empty. There were only two occupants inside: The bartender, who didn’t look up, and a drunken patron half-slumped over the bar, who did. 

“Ayyy!” he cried, holding up his stein and sloshing beer over the counter. “Iron Man!” A moment later he was slumped over the bar again. 

Tony popped his faceplate up, blinking incredulously at the scene before him. “Uh… Okay.” 

The door to a back room opened then, and Clint sauntered out, a beer bottle in hand. “Bout time you got here,” he drawled, and Tony stared back at him. 

“Some emergency, Barton.” 

Clint shrugged, not even looking embarrassed. “Had to get you here somehow,” he replied, and before Tony could ask  _ why _ , he was opening the door again to stick his head back into the room behind him. “Hey guys!” he hollered. “He’s here!” 

Tony stared as Nat filed out through the door, followed by an extremely put-out looking Sam and then, finally, Steve. Tony took a tiny bit of solace in the fact that apparently Steve hadn’t been told what was going on either. He stopped at the sight of Tony, taking up the entire doorway, and his eyes narrowed. 

“What’s he doing here?” 

Tony resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him. “Yes. What  _ am  _ I doing here?” he asked instead, feeling increasingly more bewildered. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, and he didn’t like it. The last time he had been this confused was when Rhodey had kissed him back in college, and while that had turned out pretty fantastic, he wasn’t holding the same hope here. 

Natasha and Clint shared one of those freaky spy twin stares, having an entire conversation without words, but it was Natasha who finally spoke. “So the thing is, Clint and I and… Well everyone, really. We’re sick of your shit.” 

Beside her, Clint nodded sagely, folding his arms across his chest in that way that he thought was supposed to be impressive (it was, the man had biceps for days, but Tony wasn’t going to tell him that). “The two of you,” he said, gesturing between Tony and Steve. “You can’t go five minutes without having a screaming fest. It’s fucking annoying.” 

“So you’re going to sit here, with Sam, and have couples therapy until you work out your anger issues with each other,” Natasha continued. 

Sam drew in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I feel obliged to mention for the  _ millionth _ time that I’m not actually a therapist. What the fuck even?” 

“You’re the closest thing we have!” Natasha and Clint replied in unison. It sounded like a well-worn argument. 

“And I don’t have anger issues,” Steve mumbled, sounding petulant. The four of them turned to stare at him incredulously and he shifted a little uncomfortably, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Okay, maybe I have a bit of a temper,” he admitted. “But I don’t see how this is going to help anything.” 

“Not to mention the potential security risk,” Tony added, with a pointed look at the bar. 

“Yes!” Steve practically shouted, clearly looking for an excuse to get out of this. “Exactly.” 

“Don’t worry about them,” Natasha said, waving off their concerns. “They don’t speak English.” 

“And see?” Clint added. “You’re getting along better already.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “This is bullshit, and I can’t believe you hauled me all the way out here for this. I’ve got forty million actual things to do, so... I’m going. It’s been, uh… Great catching up?”

“Uh-uh.” All of a sudden Nat was holding a gun in each hand. “We’re serious about this, Tony. You’re gonna fix this thing between you.” 

Tony blinked at her. “Are you… Are you threatening me?” 

Natasha just shrugged, arching a brow at him. And the thing was, Tony was  _ pretty _ sure she wouldn’t really shoot him, but he couldn’t say it with 100% certainty -- he was still wearing the armor. He met her gaze for a long moment, trying to call her bluff, but she didn’t flinch and Tony sighed, feeling his entire body sag. 

“Fiiiiine,” he said, dragging the word out to about five times the length so that she’d know how displeased he was. Pointedly not removing the suit, he stomped over the bar. For a long minute, nobody joined him. Then, after some loud whispering that he ignored in favour of trying to piece together enough Hungarian to get a scotch from the bartender, Steve came over and slumped down on a stool beside him. He didn’t speak, or look at him, leaving it to Tony to start the conversation. Tony kind of regretted putting the faceplate up, because Steve would definitely notice if he made a face at him. “So, uh… Where’s the rest of your motley crew? Simon, or Sean, or whatever his name was. The shrink ‘n gro guy?” 

Steve gave him an unimpressed stare. “I know you know his name is Scott. Just like I know you know that he made a deal with the Feds, and that he’s under house arrest stateside.” He turned away again, and Tony rolled his eyes at the sticky bartop. 

“Excuse me for making conversation,” he muttered. “And, uh, what about Wanda?” 

When he looked at him again, Steve’s gaze had hardened, his expression unreadable. “I’m not telling you where Wanda is.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered. “What, you think I’m asking so I can call up Ross and sell her out? Really, Rogers? The back-up, and the checkins, and making myself available to you all the goddamn time is just so that I can fuck you all over at the first available opportunity? Fuck you. I’m the one out there trying to get things fixed so you idiots can finally come home!” 

“Oh yeah,” Steve scoffed. “How altruistic of you. Like how locking Wanda up in the first place was for  _ her  _ sake, not yours, right?” 

“It was!” Tony insisted. “I had her staying on the  _ compound _ , Steve. You know, the giant ass place where we all chose to live? The one with walking trails and an Olympic size pool and six different gourmet kitchens in addition to the private quarters that are bigger than most NYC apartments? It wasn’t exactly a 6x8 cell.” 

“It doesn’t matter! You can’t just lock people up. People deserve freedom, Tony!” 

“Oh my god. I wasn’t locking her up, I was keeping her from  _ being _ locked up. They wanted to take her in for questioning, Steve. Do you know what happens when people like Ross take people like Wanda in for questioning? They disappear. Keeping her on the compound meant they couldn’t just waltz in and take her. Not to mention what could happen with random people on the street. She’s misunderstood Steve, I get that. But when people misunderstand things, they tend to fear them. And they can react to fear in pretty violent ways.” 

“I think Wanda can handle herself.” 

Tony scoffed. “Yeah, I saw how well she handled herself in Lagos. You really want a repeat of that in upstate New York?” 

Steve opened his mouth, clearly ready to lay into him, but before he could there was a sharp whistle from across the room. They both whipped around to see Natasha, Sam, and Clint glaring at them pointedly. 

“This!” Clint said. “This is exactly what we’re talking about! Come on, you two were really good friends. I get this is a big disagreement, but...” He gestured between himself and Natasha. “Look, Tasha and I were on opposite sides of the Accords. You don’t see us going at each other’s throats every time we look at each other. We’re still friends! Don’t you want that back?”

Tony felt himself deflate a little. He chanced a glance over at Steve out of the corner of his eyes and found him looking equally subdued. Neither of them actually said anything, but Clint got a smug, self-satisfed look on his face anyway. 

“That’s what I thought,” he told them.

“Okay, so.” Natasha planted a hand in the middle of Sam’s back and shoved him hard, getting a yelp out of him as he stumbled over toward the bar. “Sam’s gonna stay here and... guide you, while the two of you sit here until you get all your shit talked out.” 

“I’m really not qualified for this!” Sam informed them again. 

“And Nat and I’ll be waiting right outside the door until you do,” Clint added, with a look that suggested they’d be doing more guarding more than waiting. 

So, with Sam as mediator, they talked. It didn’t start out well, the two of them doing more screaming than talking, every topic veering into anger. Sam had to interrupt them every five minutes to try and get them to refocus, grumbling the whole time about how he wasn’t getting paid enough for this shit. Once, Clint and Nat had stuck their heads back in, presumably to make sure they didn’t  _ actually _ kill each other. Tony had been screaming about how if Steve thought Tony had been acting selfishly, he’d better look in a mirror, or was he trying to claim that not telling Tony that his parents had been murdered was really for his benefit. But Steve hadn’t yelled back, and Tony had gotten his breathing and heart rate under control -- without kicking Steve’s chair out from under him, as tempting as it was -- and they had left again. 

And eventually, things had shifted. Tony was still mad, but he could understand some of the fear and reasoning that had led to Steve being so against the Accords, and Steve had admitted that while he still didn’t agree with them, he could see how some oversight was virtually inevitable, and that he probably should have had more faith in Tony, and the possibility of a middle ground. He’d admitted that it hadn’t just been the Accords, that between that, and Lagos, and then Peggy dying, he’d felt like the ground was falling out beneath him and hadn’t reacted well, and Tony had admitted that he could have done more to see where he was coming from -- he wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with the sensation of the ground falling out beneath him himself. 

“Shit,” Tony mumbled, rubbing at his eyes as he looked around the bar for what felt like the first time in hours. He didn’t actually remember when he’d stepped out of the Iron Man suit, but he was sitting on the barstool beside Steve in a business suit, Iron Man standing guard in the corner. There was no sign of the bartender or the other patron. “How long have we been here.” He frowned. “And where the hell did Sam go?” 

“I think he gave up and called it quits around the time I called you a hack,” Steve offered. His voice was dry, but he offered Tony a crooked grin, and Tony felt a pang; it had been a long time since he had seen Steve smile like that and he’d missed it. 

He sighed, fiddling with a bare spot on the counter. “I didn’t want to kill Barnes,” he admitted quietly. “Not really. I know it wasn’t his fault. I just… Seeing my mom killed like that? It brought everything all back, and I just saw red. I wanted him to hurt as much as I was.” He gave Steve a wry look. “Not very superhero-y of me, huh?” 

“Yes. Because I’m known for my even-temper and measured responses,” Steve deadpanned. “I get it, Tony. I probably would have done the same. I didn’t want to hurt you either, for what it’s worth. I just wanted to get Bucky out of there. I was scared I was going to lose him again, and you were a little terrifying. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re kind of a badass.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “You trying to flatter me, Rogers?” 

“I’m just saying, it did take two fully grown super soldiers to even slow you down.” He grinned, then sobered again. “But what you said back there? You were right, Tony. You  _ were _ my friend. I should have had respect for that too.” 

“Ye-ah…” Tony shrugged. “I get it though. If our places were switched, and that were Rhodey? Full offense, Steve, but I would lay you out to save him.” 

Steve gave him another soft smile. “I don’t doubt it.” 

Tony’s phone gave a loud jangle then, buzzing harshly against the counter, and he and Steve both startled, jolted from the hazy peace they’d fallen into. WIth a rueful smile, Tony picked the phone up and grimaced at the message waiting for him. 

“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He looked over at Steve, an apology on his face. “I gotta get going. Ross has decided to come by in a couple hours, and if I’m not there he’s going to start trying to look into where I  _ am _ …” 

“Yeah, yeah, no,” Steve said quickly. “I understand.” He hesitated a moment, chewing at his lip. “I haven’t said thank you, Tony. All of this, dealing with Ross, and the Accords, and trying to bring us home…? I appreciate it, I really do. I know it’s a lot, and it’s all on you, and I know I’m terrible at showing it, but I do appreciate it. Thank you, Tony.” 

Tony smiled softly. “Thank  _ you _ ,” he answered, nodding his head back toward the front door. “For keeping them safe.” 

Steve snorted. “Because Nat needs so much looking after?” he teased, earning a soft chuckle from Tony. 

“I missed this,” he told him. “I mean, not the screaming and the yelling and the wanting to murder each other, obviously, that’s all horrible. But…” He gestured between them, not having the words but knowing Steve would get it anyway. “This. I’ve missed this.” 

“Yeah. Me too.” Steve rubbed at the back of his neck. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?” 

Tony grinned, stepping back into the Iron Man suit. “Find me somewhere with a decent scotch, and you’ve got yourself a deal, Steve.”


End file.
